


The Red Cord of Fate

by Aldebaran



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aldebaran Goes Dark, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, No Fate but What You Make, i don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aldebaran/pseuds/Aldebaran
Summary: Fate links me to thee for ever and a day.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 20
Kudos: 36





	The Red Cord of Fate

He had always known it would come to this, since the first moment he had become aware of the other man’s existence. The interloper, who dared to come between him and Christine, Christine who he had yearned for and dreamed of for so long.

Look at him, strolling the evening avenue, soft and foolish in his besotted state, returning home after an evening’s sojourn with her. 

The man must be love-drunk to be abroad the streets at all, to have declined to take a carriage on this misty evening, walking grimy sidewalks slicked wet from an earlier rain, ignorant of the tempting target he made in his resplendent evening wear. 

He himself had been watching and waiting for weeks, months for such an opportunity, watching as the two of them grew ever closer, complacently believing him relegated to their past. And now, he would have his reward for his hard work. This rare outing, this empty street, a man completely distracted by the thought of Christine’s charms, by the memory of earnest kisses in what the two of them thought were private moments on her doorstep. 

Love-drunk indeed and completely oblivious to that which stalked him from the shadows.

Still, lost in a dreamworld or not, this one was not without danger. They’d grappled before and he had felt the man’s strength. Devil take him, he was well-made, broad-shouldered, agile and quick. 

The ignorant fool, humming a little tune as he strolled. He hated to credit the man with any rational sense at all, but the fact of the matter was, when he was not mooning over Christine, he had in the past shown himself to be a good strategist and quick to adapt.

Best then, not to give him any chance to adapt at all. 

The ruffian had had quite enough time with her already. It was best to put an end to it. The only way for Christine to choose between them was to make the choice for her.

The lasso slipped between his fingers. Red cord. Such a curious color. He remembered reading  tales from the Orient when he was a boy, when he had dreamed of seeing the world, the story of the red cord of fate that bound together two persons destined to be true loves to one another.

And he had thought of Christine as he practiced with the red cord, each hour that he practiced, dreaming of her, of how the red cord would ultimately bring her to him. 

The cord which truly bound him not to her, but to the man who walked ahead of him, such a very short distance away now. This red cord, which he slipped through his strong fingers, this cord bound the two of them together in a far different fashion than lovers. 

It bound them as rivals. Bitter destined enemies. Mortal foes, until death did them part. 

The red cord had almost ended their hellish rivalry once before, each of them at an opposite end of it. Until Christine had struck the spark of compassion from the flint of one man’s soul. 

Ironically, she had made her choice harder, for with that action the two men she strove to choose between became more alike in her eyes. 

But…Christine was not here now. Compassion would not be an issue. This ended tonight.

With his adversary gone, Christine would turn to him again, say she loved him with every waking moment.

The time was now. His rival turned the corner into a dark and narrow street.

With a flick of the wrist, the red cord settled about the throat of the man who had denied him Christine’s love.

A sharp snap of the cord, an equally sharp snap of the neck, and the tall form in black evening wear toppled to the ground in front of Raoul, the white porcelain mask shattering against the wet cobblestones.

The red cord of fate had done its work and Christine would be his at last.

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to [Riffler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riffler/pseuds/Riffler) for her many readings of this story and for her many helpful suggestions! So very grateful for all the support you give me!
> 
> Thanks also to the trio of "Erik's Angels", [snows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snows/pseuds/snows), [Flora_Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flora_Gray/pseuds/Flora_Gray), and [keepcalmandbrewtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmandbrewtea/pseuds/keepcalmandbrewtea), for answering the late night call for feedback and being just generally all around wonderful!


End file.
